


Intoxicated

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [122]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 3am writing, Crack Treated Seriously, Don't copy to another site, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Sex Pollen, Sick Stephen Strange, This Is STUPID, all about consent here folks, assissted masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:24:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Stephen stared at Levi for several minutes before deciding that it should probably be a relief that he wasn’t the first to desecrate the Cloak of Levitation.*The first and last time I post something I wrote at three am.





	Intoxicated

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, this is shit all the way around but when I woke up in the morning and re-read it I couldn't stop laughing so fuck it, its being posted.   
> This apparently came about because of my consent issues with the sex pollen trope and my determination to put the boys in an awkward situation. Yeah, so spoiler, no sex between the boys but the tags told you that ;)

   Stephen had known the moment he stumbled and heard the shattering glass that he was screwed. His eyes darted frantically from the pedestal to the mess on the floor, trying and failing to mentally catalogue exactly what the relic had been. There was a cloud of dust rising from the mess and the Cloak did what it could to cover his mouth and nose, but something cloyingly sweet touched his nostrils, settled on his tongue.

   Stephen beat a hasty retreat from the room, hands coming up to ward off the room, hoping against hope it would dissipate on its own. Gritting his teeth, he took stock of his body, trembling fingers summoning water to erase the taste.

   He felt…ok? His heart was hammering, that was easily from the adrenalin of his mistake, a sheen of sweat had also broken out over his body, but again stress was an easy cause. Taking a deep breath, Stephen all but sprinted to the library, intent on figuring out what the hell that had been.

   Unfortunately, he didn’t make it that far.

   His breath grew short, matching the pounding of his heart, his body beginning to drip from the heat, fire striking across his body from head to toe making him gasp and lean heavily against the railing of the staircase.

   His eyes fell closed on a low moan. His cock was hard and aching beneath the confines of his robe, all but making him double over at the speed with which blood rushed south. His Cloak was hovering anxiously next to him, practically in a panic as Stephen resisted the urge to try and jerk off right there, his mind suddenly being filled with the desperate urge to cum.

   His mind was quickly becoming muddled, but he had enough sense to recognize that whatever he had broke contained some sort of aphrodisiac. Why the hell they would keep a relic like that sitting in the _open_ , on a pedestal, in a ball of _glass_ was beyond him, and now he was paying the price.

   A corner of his Cloak curled around his wrist, to get his attention or pull him somewhere, Stephen didn’t know. He jerked back all the same, hissing as the fabric made contact with his oversensitive skin, tears pricking his eyes.

   It tugged again and Stephen forced himself to follow it toward the bedroom, where it appeared to be dragging him insistently. Privacy would be a good idea even though every step was torture as the harsh cloth of his own robes began to irritate him.

   The moment they were through the threshold, Stephen summoned his clothes away, sighing in relief. Instinctively, Stephen made his way to the bed, cock leaking liberally at this point though he hadn’t even touched it.

   He had just slid onto the bed, gasping again when a thought occurred to him, making his stomach twist in fear for the first time. Sense dictated that he needed to get the drug out of his system, and he was ninety percent sure it didn’t require magic but just stimulus. If he didn’t…well his heart rate was thrumming in his chest at an unhealthy pace, the fire was getting worse by the minute and it wouldn’t be long till his heart gave from the pressure.

   It shouldn’t be a problem for the average person. Stephen however, had no way of getting himself off the way he needed to. There was no way his hands could manage it even on his best days, let alone what he would need to accomplish _this_. Sex toys weren’t his forte and hell, he barely kept lube around anymore, long growing used to a life of semi-celibacy.

   A wave of arousal washed through him, stealing his breath and only making the fear more prevalent as he immediately turned over, onto his front and began grinding his hips into the mattress, desperation tinging each thrust. His movements were erratic, unskilled, as though he were back to being a teenager as he raced toward his finish with single-minded intensity.

   All at once, he came hard with groan, hips stilling and sore hands grasping the comforter. He grimaced at the mess beneath him as he rolled away, eyes closed and chest heaving. Biting his lip Stephen took stock but he was still hard and aching, the heat, which had abated already building again. The orgasm itself felt hollow, useless, did nothing to satiate the burn.

   He tried to calm his breathing, to _think_. This wasn’t going to work; he couldn’t grind orgasms into the mattress all day and he knew it. For a brief moment he considered calling Wong, thinking he might know a spell that could help but the thought was too mortifying. His mind drifted to the few people he knew, and he practically came just laying there when it settled firmly on Tony.

   Tony Stark, who was his good friend, confidante, and whom Stephen had been in love with since the moment he gazed into thousands of futures. Yeah, it wasn’t going to happen, not in a million years. They were friends and Stephen would rather die right then and there instead of risk the fragile relationship they built because he’d gone and gotten himself drugged.

   Still, that didn’t help his current problem or the fact that he was so hard it hurt. He was just about to turn over once more when something curled around his ankle. Stephen’s head snapped up, eyes on where red stood starkly against his pale skin.

   “Levi?” he whispered, raw and desperate.

   His Cloak moved slowly, ghosting up his leg as though waiting for Stephen to command it to stop. He should, he knew he should, but another streak of fire went through him and all he could do was gasp, “ _please_.”

   His ever-faithful companion wasted no time, striking fast and mercilessly, it wrapped around his arousal and immediately began a steady stroking, even as something wet and smooth allowed it to continue, as though the Cloak had magically summoned lube. Stephen’s hips snapped up as his head tilted back with a cry. The fabric was rough, having just enough patchwork from its years to create ridges, providing the perfect stimulus and even before Stephen could catch his breath, he was coming again.

   He expected the moment of clarity but not for Levi to keep going, to keep milking him until his still half-hard cock was quickly ready for another round and hazily, Stephen wondered just how many times it would take, if he’d be raw and pained by the time he’d gotten the drug from his system.

   Already, he could feel exhaustion seeping through his body, hips shifting restlessly up into the tight heat of his Cloak. Something soft slipped into his hand and Stephen glanced down, realizing that Levi was giving him something to hold on to and despite himself, his heart swelled a little, relief spreading through him.

   Stephen had always hated the feeling of helplessness but as he came again with a punched out little sound, he felt just a little more in control. Levi paused in its ministrations, slipping up his body to wipe at his sweat soaked brow.

   The heat was there, he was still hard, but the clarity was lasting longer this time, “thank you,” he said hoarsely, stroking his old friend with his free hand.

   The collar of the Cloak nuzzled against his throat for a moment, making Stephen offer a weak smile, just as he found himself thrusting his hips up aimlessly again, a growl of frustration slipping from his lips even as Levi obligingly began careful strokes once more, one edge reaching further down to squeeze at his balls and Stephen was not prepared, surprising himself when he came again, this time just on the edge of painful.

   He should be a mess by now but each time he came it seemed to disappear into the fabric, magicked away and damn Stephen was grateful for that. He relaxed back into the bed, glad when he felt his erection properly die this time, though he knew it wasn’t over, stomach still turning with heat.

   “Bet you’ve never had to do this before for you master,” Stephen muttered, one hand still gripping the Cloak tightly.

   It seemed to perk up a bit, the collar creating an air that suggested it had in fact done so. Stephen stared at Levi for several minutes before deciding that it should probably be a relief, he wasn’t the first to desecrate the Cloak of Levitation.

   Still, it was oddly comforting to be in the familiar embrace of the Cloak, even as he pressed trembling fingers to his pulse and tried to count. It was already speeding up, however, and Stephen felt dread settle in him as he began to harden again. With a groan his hips began moving of their own accord, his mind going hazy with the single-minded intention to come once more.

   It took an hour, a solid, miserable, maddening hour.

   Finally, after Stephen had pumped out his last orgasm, his heart slowed to a more natural rhythm, his sweaty body immediately beginning to chill. He laid there, face buried in the collar of the Cloak, panting as it stroked his damp hair, while his body ached painfully. His throat was parched, lips cracked from the unnatural heat that just ravaged his body, exhaustion keeping him plastered to the mattress even as he distantly recognized he wasn’t quite out of the woods.

   He needed to get up, do tests to make certain it had been flushed from his system without side affects, should eat and drink something, clean up the mess in the warded room. An entire list of things he should be doing.

   Except he didn’t want to move. His body felt oversensitive and sore, like the gentlest of touches would hurt, a headache had begun to throb in the back of his head, and his face felt wreaked from a mixture of tears and fatigue.

   Stephen wasn’t sure how many times he had come but between the embarrassment of what he had just endured and the downright shock of it, he had already decided this would need to be kept to himself. A new catalogue would be made and all those god damn relics that even resembled that ball would be locked away in some long-forgotten room.

   Just as Stephen was trying to gather the energy to stand and tend to his needs, namely food, water, and a much-needed shower, there was a familiar sucking sensation along his spine, making him lift his head weakly.

   A visitor.

   Stephen groaned at the realization, wondering if it could be ignored, only to hear a voice that sent a wave of heat, entirely different from the aphrodisiac through him, “Stephen? You here or what?”

   Tony fucking Stark.

   Only he would choose to show up at the Sanctum unannounced at this precise moment. He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d though about him for the majority of the hour, imagining Levi’s steady grip belonging to calloused hands…

   Stephen shook his head, swallowing thickly, debating how to get rid of him quickly. The Cloak suddenly perked up, sliding out from beneath Stephen’s weak fingers and he narrowed his eyes at its swaying form, “don’t,” he warned.

   It seemed to consider him for a long moment before rushing from the room, despite Stephen’s command. With a cry of pain, Stephen scrambled to get up, summoning clothes to dress himself, recognizing Levi’s motivations. All it knew was that its master was still in pain and needed to be taken care of, so naturally it was rushing to the first person it could find.

   Stephen hated his life.

\---

   Tony frowned at the silent Sanctum around him. He’d begun slowly creeping toward the stairs, aware that the museum wouldn’t have let him in unless Stephen was in fact home. However, the sorcerer usually greeted him, had strict rules about him wandering its halls on his own.

   Despite himself, Tony found his heart hammering faster at the stray thought Stephen might not be _able_ to come to the door. He couldn’t count the number of times he had shown up to find the man bruised and beaten, exhausted and annoyed. The result was usually Tony taking a hands-on approach in forcing the wizard to relax and look after himself for five minutes. He didn’t mind that part, would gladly drop everything for Stephen, though the man didn’t know it, he’d just prefer it wasn’t because he was hurt.

   “Stephen?” he called out again, one foot on the bottom step, weary.

   A flash of movement had him stepping back, startled. Only for a mass of red, easily identifiable as the Cloak, to rush towards him. It came to a stop, hovering just in front and Tony wasn’t really sure what to do. It usually ignored him, so he had no reason to interact with it, though Stephen seemed to talk to it like it was a real person.

   “uh, hi?”

   It seemed to consider him a moment longer before it was wrapping an edge around his upper arms and tugging him up the stairs. Tony went willingly, that fear coming forth in a new wave at the strange behaviour of Stephen’s sentient Cloak. Something must be wrong for it to be urging him so quickly.

   They had just reached the top when it let him go abruptly, making him stumble. It was quickly apparent why when he turned to follow its path only to find it settling over Stephen’s shoulders. Relief was the first thing he felt, which was quickly dashed the moment the took in the wizard’s appearance.

   “Tony,” he greeted hoarsely.

   He stared. Stephen looked horrible, like he’d just gone ten rounds with Thanos and lost fifty times over. He was pale, though his cheeks were flushed, a sheen of sweat glossing over the skin and curling his hair in a way that would be mesmerizing in any other circumstance.

   The trembling that could usually be found only in Stephen’s hands could just be seen throughout his body, beneath his tunic and his entire posture was slumped. Something was wrong, obvious as day, but what was a complete mystery.

   “You look like shit,” the words slipped out automatically making Stephen scowl.

   “Thanks, I need you to leave.”

   Tony shook his head automatically, walking closer when Stephen’s hand suddenly came up, as though warding him off, “please Tony.”

   He blinked, confused by the flash of panic on Stephen’s face, but he persisted all the same, “what happened to you this time?” he tried to tease.

   Stephen grimaced, “I’m serious. I’m…not feeling well and would appreciate it if you left.”

   Usually Tony would respect those wishes but not when he was looking like death warmed over. It physically hurt to see Stephen like this, every urge inside him telling him to help, take care of this man. He’d long given up pretending he wasn’t entirely smitten with his sorcerer, had been for a long time and had been trying to feel out whether or not Stephen would be perceptible to more serious advances.

   As it was, he had no intention of abandoning him in this particular moment, “sure, as soon as I’m certain you aren’t going to keel over and die.”

   Stephen shook his head a little, swaying quite suddenly and without considering the fact that the Cloak was more then capable of helping him, Tony was in front of him, hands gripping Stephen’s shoulders to steady him.

   The taller man flinched back hard, but Tony held tight, “hey, you’re alright, its ok.”

   Stephen seemed a little dazed, swallowing hard, “I need to lay down.”

   Tony offered a weak grin of his own, “finally something sensible doc.”

   Without another word, Tony took his arm and began leading him toward where he’d long figured out Stephen’s bedroom was. They took two steps before Stephen suddenly dug his heels in bringing them both to a stop, “that way,” he nodded his head toward a door opposite his room.

   Tony didn’t question it, eager to get him laying down. Entering the room revealed one of the dozens of uniform bedrooms. He guided him to the bed, the Cloak helping them both along and carefully lowered him into it. Stephen was quick to slip beneath the covers, a shudder going over him.

   Now that Tony could look at him properly his concern only grew. He was clearly dehydrated and down right exhausted. His eyes were hazy, and he generally seemed completely out of it and that alone made Tony itch to call Wong, wondering if he had been hit with some sort of spell.

   The Cloak seemed to stretch out over Stephen, in a protective embrace, so it surprised him when its corner once more curled around his wrist and tugged him closer. He hesitated only a moment before carefully reaching out to card his fingers through Stephen’s damp hair. The man shuddered and groaned at the touch but ultimately pushed up into it.

   “What happened to you?” he murmured, unable to help the worry colouring his tone.

   Stephen grimaced, “spell.”

   He was mildly surprised to have gotten an answer to that, “what do you need?”

   That seemed to revive him a bit, eyes focusing for a moment and darting around the room, “water, food.”

   Tony’s stomach twisted. It was usually difficult to get Stephen to accept help in any form, which meant he must be worse then he realized, “can your Cloak show me the way to the kitchen?”

   He shook his head briefly, one hand doing a quick little twirl and on the bedside table there was a glass of water and small platter of fruits. It didn’t come easily though, Stephen’s face scrunching and hand coming up to hold his head.

   Tony reached for the water, pausing only briefly when a glare was shot his way, but kept going till he could press the glass to his lips. He watched with rapt attention as Stephen drank in heavy gulps, like he was dying of thirst.

   “Easy,” he murmured, pulling it away.

   The man was already drifting, even Tony could tell and instead of insisting he eat something like he should, he just lowered a hand to his hair again, watching as his eyes flickered closed. It was unsettling to suddenly be left alone, in the Sanctum, next to Stephen, who was completely passed out.

   Within moments he was unconsciousness and Tony found himself stealing a chair from the corner and dragging it to his bedside, eyes on his soft face. The Cloak perked up from its place over Stephen, grabbing his attention, and it was impossible to deny the sense that it was scrutinizing him.

   “I promise not to wander off or do anything,” he offered. It seemed to give a brief nod before settling back over its master and despite himself he felt a smile stealing over his lips.

   Tony was quickly learning that Stephen Strange was an enigma in the best kind of way. The man could be arrogant, rude, intimidating but he was also helpful, kind, and self-sacrificial to a fault. Paired with his humor and intellect Tony found if difficult not to find himself pining the days away.

   He just wished Stephen would stop getting himself in these kinds of messes, wished that maybe, one day, he might consider contacting Tony for help with things like whatever the hell happened, so he didn’t have to keep wasting his visits on care over conversation.

   But that was probably the bitterness talking, since he came here today with the express intent of asking the man to dinner, or take-out, or a walk or anything resembling a date really. While that was certainly side-tracked, it also seemed like a great excuse to stick around until Stephen woke up.

\---

   Stephen peeled back his eyes slowly. His entire body was aching and sore, there was the distinct stickiness he associated with dried sweat, and a bitter taste in his mouth. He groaned lowly, grimacing as he stretched, but also finding the oversensitivity of his skin, that he recalled having, faded.

   Almost immediately his eyes fell on Tony, fast asleep in an uncomfortable armchair. Mortification swept through him as hazy memories came to the forefront of his mind, Tony’s arrival, the sensitivity and heat that washed through him at his touch, his gentle insults, the concern in his eyes, his hand in his hair.

   Stephen found himself sitting up abruptly, pushing away at the Cloak that tried to tug him back down. He needed to shower, needed to get Tony to leave, and needed this whole incident shoved to the back his mind for all eternity.

   He grabbed the half-full glass of water and downed it quickly, before plucking at the fruit he barely recalled summoning the night before. Without another glance at Tony, he quickly retreated to the bathroom, intent on feeling human again and salvaging enough dignity to face the man without blushing like a complete idiot.

   He showered quickly, efficiently. By the time he stepped out he felt like a new man, refreshed and relieved as the steam helped some of his sore muscles relax. His Cloak hovered nearby as he wrapped a towel around his waist and Stephen took a long moment to pet its collar in thanks for all its help, which it seemed to all but preen over.

   Stephen summoned his robes and shifted a little before the mirror, taking in his appearance. He looked as good as new and he felt…well there was a low burn of arousal but not enough to get him hard let alone concerned over the drug. His heartbeat was steady, and he had none of the feverish symptoms from earlier, so Stephen figured he could call it a win.

   There were two distinct taps at the door, startling Stephen.

   “Hey, you alright in there?”

   Stephen found himself staring at the hardwood for a long moment, stomach twisting a little at the concern he could hear tinging Tony’s words. His Cloak settled on his shoulders then and he felt a distinct pressure on his back, as though urging him forward.

   “Stephen?” the handle shook a bit.

   “I’m fine.”

   There was a pause, a long one, “do you mind coming out?”

   Despite himself, a smile crept onto his lips, forever unused to Tony’s near chronic worry about him. It was much easier than to close the distance and unlock the door with a click, swinging it open to find Tony waiting there, tired and running a hand through his hair anxiously.

   Warm brown eyes met his, before quickly running over his body as though searching for evidence of his imminent demise, “I really am fine,” Stephen murmured. “You didn’t have to stay.”

   Tony shook his head, “you looked like you had one foot in the grave, didn’t want Wong coming after me if I left and you ended up dead.”

   “Kind of you,” Stephen said, walking past with a wry smile.

   He could feel Tony’s eyes on him as he rounded the bed and snagged several more pieces of fruit from the platter, trying his best not to just shove it all in his mouth. He was starving but he also wasn’t stupid enough to try something heavier so soon.

   “What happened to you?”

   Stephen stiffened, “I thought I told you.”

   “You said it was a spell, which as far as I know can be just about anything.”

   Standing straighter he turned to meet Tony’s gaze, “doesn’t matter since I’m fine now.”

   Tony crossed his arms, eyes narrowing a little, “you were all alone. I get its your thing and all but what if it had been something more serious?”

   Stephen blinked, confused by Tony’s tone, “then I either would have dealt with it or Wong would have found me eventually.”

   Tony’s jaw clenched, “why didn’t you call him? The moment you knew you were sick, or me or one of those masters you talk about?”

   Embarrassment creeped over him, but he pushed it aside, letting his voice drop, “since when are my decisions any of your business?”

   “Since you could have died, alone. You-” he paused, stumbling over the word and Stephen frowned. “You’re my friend and I don’t make a habit of letting them get themselves killed.”

   Stephen bit his tongue on his next words, taking a moment to examine Tony with the practiced eye he had been perfecting these past few months. Tony was staring at him with hooded eyes and shaking hands dug into his arms, he was pale and defiant and for once not resorting directly to humor.

   He was scared. Stephen had scared him.

   The realization was unpleasant. Yet he couldn’t deny the evidence of his concern was oddly…comforting? All the same he found himself at a loss for words, unsure how to reassure him that he wouldn’t have been killed without revealing what had actually happened. He felt the Cloak wrap firmly around his wrist in a familiar gesture of support and Stephen found himself standing a little bit straighter.

   “I wouldn’t have died. The spell was…simple enough to deal with. I didn’t need help.”

   Tony was already shaking his head, “its not about needing help Stephen. You shouldn’t have to deal with whatever the spells do to you alone.”

   Stephen stared at him, images flashing through his mind of thing he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about in that moment, fantasies that were better left in the back of his head. Swallowing thickly, Stephen, waved his hand at Tony, “lets move on. Why did you come? Can I help you with something?”

   Tony frowned, “no, none of that shit.”

   He was suddenly walking up to him, coming to stand just inside his space and taking one of Stephen’s trembling hands in his, “promise me next time you’ll call me, or _someone_.”

   Stephen didn’t know where the words came from, only that they slipped out automatically, “that would be awkward considering the spell was sexual in nature.”

   It was almost worth the mortification to see the look of complete shock on Tony’s face, almost. He dropped his hand and took a step back, brows furrowing in confusion, “come again?”

   God, Stephen knew his cheeks were probably bright red at this point and it didn’t help that the Cloak was practically shivering against his back in mirth and he was going to have a serious conversation with his companion when this was all over.

   Tony was staring at him, eyes a little far away and Stephen did not want to know what he was thinking about when he finally decided enough was enough, “alright, we’re moving on now. Either leave or meet me downstairs for whatever you wanted.”

   Stephen moved to brush past him, but Tony didn’t move, murmuring quietly, “I wouldn’t have minded.”

   He froze at the words, staring at Tony who was suddenly meeting his gaze unflinchingly and that was just…just the last thing he expected him to say. Thing was Stephen wasn’t oblivious, not by a long shot. He knew there was attraction there, on both parts but he figured he could be forgiven of not thinking Tony would actually be _serious_ about it and in some ways those words only confirmed it, which hurt more then he’d like to admit.

   “I’m not in the habit of sleeping with my friends, spell or no.”

   Tony shook his head quickly, “no I didn’t mean like that. I wouldn’t have done anything if you were being influenced by a spell. As far as I’m concerned that would have been the same as raping you. I just meant, I wouldn’t have minded…helping, in whatever, totally legal and morally sound way I could.”

   Stephen had never been this far out of his depth before. The air between them was awkward and he knew even Tony was feeling it from the way his face was flushed, and embarrassment tinged his expression.

   Stephen’s mouth opened and closed several times before finally settling on, “I…appreciate that.”

   Tony gave a strained laugh, “you know what? Fuck it. I also wouldn’t mind us working our way towards not _just_ friends.”

   The whole situation was so absurd that Stephen couldn’t help the laugh that finally bubbled out of him, partly in reaction to the Cloak which had perked up at Tony’s words, its corners prodding at him to respond, and partly because he was still so god damn tired.

   “Wow, Strange, way to reject a guy,” Tony muttered, but he had an unsure half smile.

   Stephen shook his head fondly, “idiot.”

   That startled a chuckle from him as Stephen wrapped trembling fingers around his hand and tugged him toward the doorway, “let’s go get lunch and then we’ll talk.”

   Stephen chose to ignore the completely different warmth that washed through him when Tony refused to let go his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna come back to this for a good laugh on occasion.


End file.
